


Genesis

by MxModern



Series: Clementine [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, POV Alternating, Russian Mafia, Will add more tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22225879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxModern/pseuds/MxModern
Summary: Hasetsu, New York: the comparatively calm and safe sister city to the bustling and crime ridden New York, New York, but that's about to change.The Italian mob family, the Russos, have had full control of the city for generations, but the Vasilievs of NYC and Albany have been eyeing the territory as an easy target, viewing the peace as weakness.Enter Victor Nikiforov, the front lineman for expansion and trusted friend of Hasetsu's local millionaire. He was never meant to stay in the city, until he met the young ICU surgeon,Yuuri Katsuki.A whirlwind of sex and violence, this is the beginning.Part one of Clementine, a three-part series, somewhat inspired by the song "Nemesis" by Benjamin Clementine. (Nathan Chen did a beautiful program to it in the 2017/2018 Figure Skating season.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Clementine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599850
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter One

Elegance radiated from every corner of the Walton hotel ballroom. The exquisite chandeliers, remnants of the building`s 19th-century origins, bathed party-goers in a warm, amber glow. The occasion was celebratory. No expense was spared by the millionaire that owned half of Hasetsu, New York, Celestino Cialdini, who was celebrating his 50th birthday. 

Among the milling politicians and local celebrities, and feeling incredibly out of place, was a young thoracic surgeon, Yuuri Katsuki. He had earned the millionaire’s respect and comradery almost a year prior to the event after miraculously saving his infant son’s life, who suffered from a severe congenital heart defect.

When he promised his attendance, Yuuri had intended to show up, greet and congratulate Celestino, mill around for maybe a few minutes and leave. Unfortunately, the greet-and-congratulate part ended with another promise: to stay for his speech… which wouldn’t happen until nearer to the end.  _ “So stay. Dance. Drink, for heaven’s sake, it’s my birthday!”  _

So he hovered by the champagne, drinking glass after glass and waiting for the omnipresent anxiety to blur into nothing. Maybe he’d loosen up, or maybe he’d get alcohol poisoning. If there was one thing the Katsukis were good at though, it was drinking. 

He was on his tenth, or maybe eleventh, glass when a man pulled up a seat beside him. Perhaps Yuuri was just drunk, but he was gorgeous. He was tall and slender with silver hair that glimmered beneath the chandeliers, though he couldn’t have been much older than he was. If Yuuri was a believer, he'd have been sure that his perfectly symmetrical face with even set eyes and delicately curved, heart-shaped lips were handcrafted by God Himself.

He must have been staring longer than he should have because the stranger’s cool, blue eyes met his own and he offered his hand. “I’m Victor Nikiforov.” 

Yuuri Katsuki, MD, top of his class, the youngest and arguably most talented surgeon in the state of New York, responded instinctively in his drunken state. It was automatic and he couldn’t stop it. He took Victor’s hand firmly, looked him straight in the eyes and said, “I’m Yuuri Katsuki and you are fucking stunning.”

Two glasses ago, Yuuri might have been embarrassed, but that was two glasses ago. The only thing that mattered was Victor’s smile and boyish laugh. “Do you want to dance?” 

Of fucking course he did. 

Even as intoxicated as he was, Yuuri was a phenomenal dancer, and so was Victor. Dance after dance, Yuuri led him through increasingly complex patterns and footwork with dips and turns, testing his rigor and stamina to its limit. More than once, groups of people parted to watch them waltz and foxtrot like they were born to dance together. 

When the last song ended, both Yuuri and Victor glistened with sweat. Victor was breathing heavily, obviously worn out, and they finally started to move back to the side of the room when another gentleman approached them, tapping Yuuri gently on the shoulder. 

"Christophe Giacometti," he said, offering a hand, which Yuuri shook. "May I have the next dance?" His eyes flickered up to Victor briefly in something that resembled a scowl. 

Even drunk, Yuuri was startled by the attention, particularly from men. He looked back to Victor, who had stiffened, and smiled. “Sure.” 

He let Christophe take the lead as they made their way back to the dance floor. 

\---

Victor Nikiforov was shaken to his core, with his heart pounding achingly against his sternum. His forehead was slick and he could feel the perspiration on his back and neck soaking through his shirt beneath the tux coat. 

While his muscles ached, he couldn’t help but watch in frustration as the mysterious god with whom he danced was led away by Christophe Giacometti. It wasn’t enough that he took almost everything in the divorce, he had to take this away from him too. 

The lights over the dance floor dimmed and Victor’s heart dropped into his stomach as he watched the poisonous snake whisper something into Yuuri’s ear while Yuuri shrugged out of his coat and loosened his tie. 

About two-thirds of the live orchestra stepped away from the bandstand, leaving a few violinists, two bassists, percussionists, a guitarist, and the pianist. Victor, well versed in dance, music, and Chris’s tactics, audibly whispered, “fuck,” as his eyes locked on the couple.

The first bars of  _ El Tango De Roxanne _ hit him like a train and every sensual touch felt like a death knell. They might as well have been having sex in the middle if the dance floor, mocking him, until, very subtly, Yuuri’s eyes met his. Victor knew then that, incredibly, Chris lost. Even as they enwrapped themselves with each other, as Chris held his waist in those strong, steady hands… Yuuri’s mind was on Victor. 

"You're disgusting." Victor tore his gaze away from the elegant and sensual Yuuri Katsuki to look at his guest, the arrogant and irritable Yuri Plisetsky. "Do you have any subtlety?"

Victor smirked. "You're the one that wanted to come. I'm going to do what I want." The nineteen-year-old rolled his eyes. Victor's little cousin had changed little since becoming an adult. "You're just jealous because you could never land a man like that."

"I'm just glad I got my own hotel room. Perve." Apparently over his need to taunt, Yuri skulked away, probably to go sneak a glass of champagne from an unsuspecting waiter. Even the bounce of his shoulder-length, blond hair seemed overly aggressive. Victor couldn't help but smile though, at the teen's insult. Even little Yura knew he was going to get lucky that night.

\---

The dance ended and applause broke out amongst the spectators. Yuuri could feel heat flood his cheeks, suddenly aware of the closeness of his dance partner with an arm across his shoulders and the other around his waist in a shallow dip. The tango had left him breathless and sober, and his muscles ached from dancing for hours. 

"My friends, Yuri Katsuki and Christophe Giacometti, everybody!" Celestino had stepped up to the podium that stood in front of the ballroom near the bandstand and seemed absolutely delighted by how the night had turned out. 

Smiling sheepishly, Yuuri bowed with Christophe to the renewed applause before leaving abruptly to find his jacket and tie which had both been tossed aside over the course of the dance. 

With his coat over his arm and his tie over his shoulder, he returned to Christophe and patted his shoulder, his eyes averted downward. "Thanks for the dance," he said, before turning quickly away to find Victor. 

\---

**The remainder of this chapter is Highly NSFW, but I am at W. I just wanted to post what I had, so the next chapter will be uploaded pretty quickly.**

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 1.2

Pain. Physical pain. That was what Victor Nikiforov was in as Yuuri gathered the discarded coat and tie. Apparently watching a god dance with his ex was too much for his easily excitable libido to handle. He now had an incredibly ill-advised boner pinned uncomfortably to his thigh by his tight briefs.

He had had half a mind to find a private bathroom and unload, as it were, until he spotted Yuuri again, weaving his way through the crowd towards _him._

Thin strands of black hair that had been held back by gel had fallen astray and pale cheeks were flushed with exhilaration. "So, you from around here?" His voice was breathless, but a manic energy seemed to emanate from his skin like an electric wire that would shock him to touch. 

He cleared his throat in an attempt to maintain composure. The 6 month dry spell since the divorce was catching up with him 10 fold. "The City," Victor replied. 

"Hasetsu is a city," Yuuri remarked. His voice had steadied and his sharp brown eyes seemed to see right through him. He felt naked and something in his stomach quivered. 

"New York City." He didn't have to say it. The way Yuuri looked at him… he knew what he meant. He could feel himself shrink and his erection twitch. "I'm staying in the hotel, if you wanted to… later..."  _ God, if he wanted to do what???  _

Yuuri's head tilted to the side, waiting for the rest of the request. Such a small gesture, and yet his heart leapt to his throat. Was he teasing him? Because fuck it was working… 

He swallowed. "If you wanted to come up after the speech…"

The speech had been going on for several minutes before Victor realised, and it was only because he mentioned a Doctor Yuuri Katsuki-.

"-who, by the grace of God, saved my son. I don't think I would have had this party if it wasn't for his dedication and passion for his work. Thank you, Doctor Katsuki."

Victor quickly stepped away as a spotlight fell on Yuuri who gave a hesitant smile to the party and a wave to the host. The stark difference in the man was staggering, but as he stood there, bathed in light, Victor took notice of something that was invisible in the softer glow of the chandeliers: a bulge that pushed out from between his legs, forming a small tent that only someone who was looking would notice. 

The spotlight fell away and the focus of the crowd went back to Cialdini who continued on with his speech and warm hand firmly grasped his own. "We can go now, if you'd like." He had him again, looking up at him through long, dark lashes. 

No longer trusting himself to speak, Victor nodded and ushered Yuuri out and away from the crowded ballroom. 

\---

They rode the elevator twelve floors and Yuuri's body was on fire. He stood to the side, arms crossed, as he watched Victor, who had his hands buried in his pockets.

This wasn't like him, but he rode the wave without thought. He'd likely never see Victor again after that night, but he was never going to forget Yuuri Katsuki. 

\---

_ What is he thinking?  _ The ride in the elevator was unbearably long and the way Yuuri stood, arms folded, watching him, made him feel hot in the face. He had never been a blusher, but he could feel himself redden beneath his gaze. 

The doors slid open on the twelfth floor and, in his rush, nearly went the wrong direction to his room. “Damn halls all look alike,” he muttered. 

He made a quick about-face then felt a hand slide into his back pocket, forcing him to slow down and feel Yuuri close in. “It’s ok,” he whispered, giving Victor’s ass a gentle squeeze. “Take your time.” 

Between the hand on his ass and the breath on his neck, the last thing Victor wanted to do was take his time, but Yuuri held him back. They walked slowly to room 1214, where Victor fumbled with the card key for at least a full minute before Yuuri took it. Every half-second Yuuri wasn’t touching him felt like torture, so when the door swung open to reveal the dark room, and he stepped aside to let him go in first, he thought he was going to die. 

He’d try to play it cool. He walked into the room and turned on the light in the entryway. Behind him, Yuuri followed and opened up the closet door that was laid into the wall, where he hung up his suit jacket and looped his tie over the hanger. Every movement was slow and deliberate, like he was intentionally doing his best to torment him. He thought about the hand in his back pocket, and what else he wanted that hand to touch…  _ Fuck. _

\---

Yuuri had lost track of what he was doing. What he was planning. He hung up his coat in the hotel room closet, giving him a moment to actually  _ think _ , something he hadn’t done much of, at all, over the course of the evening. His erection throbbed maddeningly as he thought desperately of how he was going to continue. He waited too long, he thought, horrified with himself. The moment was over. Victor had to be tired with the game by now. 

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he turned back to Victor and all thoughts evaporated as his back hit the wall and hungry lips mashed themselves against his own in a hot fervor.

The culmination. Yuuri's arms went limp beside him as the press of Victor's body against his held him in place. He could feel Victor's hard cock dig into his abdomen and it felt  _ huge.  _

Strength returning to his limbs, Yuuri held Victor's hips tight against him and adjusted himself so his own hard-on rubbed against his thigh. His lips parted in a low moan, allowing Victor's tongue to slither between them.

Yuuri could have melted into the wall, but he wanted more than Victor's tongue inside him. His eyes drifted shut as he slid his hand across Victor's and down, finding his belt buckle. 

It only took a moment of fumbling with the metal and leather before his desire was understood. The warm hands that held his face steady vanished to take on the task. Their lips parted and Yuuri pushed away from the wall, forcing Victor back, and herded him toward the bed.

\---

Neither of them could get their clothes off fast enough. Victor still had his pants on by the time his back hit the mattress.

“Yuuri-”  _ my pants,  _ he was going to say, but he had a moment to really see him. Yuuri’s breathing was haggard and irregular and his arms shook, supporting his weight so he hovered over him. A bead of sweat dripped down his chin and fell on Victor’s neck. The exertions of the evening were finally catching up to him. 

“Yuuri.” His voice firmed as he took Yuuri’s forearms to hold him steady and sat up, the concern and need to take care of him temporarily overriding his libido. Caught in Yuuri’s eyes again, Victor was devastated by the evident exhaustion intermingled with manic desire. “Yuuri.” He stood to more easily maneuver Yuuri into sitting on the bed, holding his shoulders still so he wouldn’t fall over. “You’re exhausted” Yuuri’s eyelids fluttered closed for a moment as if to prove his point. “We should stop so you can sleep.”

Yuuri groaned, frustrated, as he fell back into the mattress. “Fuck,” he muttered and rolled over to his side. 

Sitting beside him, Victor ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. The sweat softened the gel and he combed through the clumps, separating each strand. “You should move to New York City,” he whispered, expecting Yuuri to have fallen asleep. “I think you’d like it there.”

“You should move to Hasetsu.” The quiet response left Victor immobile. He felt warm and soft, nothing like how he felt with Chris. Chris was sex, incarnate, but there was little softness. He didn’t need to be taken care of and didn`t want it, but Yuuri was different. He was gentle and sensual. Victor had a feeling about him…  _ You should move to Hasetsu. _

Yuuri had begun to snore and Victor moved him around so he was lying lengthwise across the bed and pulled the blanket over him. He hardly knew this man, but he was touched in a way that Giacometti never could accomplish. 

_ I wonder what the housing market here is like… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a little longer to post this than I thought. Whoops.  
> Also, sorry for the cock-block. It sort of just happened.


End file.
